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<title>Stiles Does(n’t) Believe In Ghosts by Faetality</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25554367">Stiles Does(n’t) Believe In Ghosts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faetality/pseuds/Faetality'>Faetality</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Happy That Way [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:26:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25554367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faetality/pseuds/Faetality</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a ghost in the apartment. No, Zena hasn’t been sneaking Sugar after hours again. There’s really a ghost in the house.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Happy That Way [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1223282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Steter Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stiles Does(n’t) Believe In Ghosts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Daddy!” the eleven year old shoots through the room like a rocket and into their bed.”Papa! There was a ghost.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the same time that Stiles says, “There’s no ghosts, Zena.” Peter says, “What did it do?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stare at each other a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was in the kitchen and the apple rolled off the counter!” She’s wide eyed and Stiles can tell that she is absolutely convinced. It takes an hour to calm her down and get her back in bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t appreciate you stoking her fear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter puts an arm behind his head and settles back into the pillows. “I don’t understand what you mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frustrated Stiles throws himself onto the mattress. “The ghost stuff! She gets into enough trouble on her own, she doesn’t need encouragement. Gods know her imagination is enough for three.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t believe in ghosts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe in things I can see. I’ve never seen a ghost or ghostly activity so no. I don’t believe in ghosts. There’s no empirical evidence that a human soul exists or, given that it does, that it would stay on this plane after the body decays.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite frankly I can’t believe you</span>
  <em>
    <span> do</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re all about facts and serious shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I consider ghosts serious.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you do. Jeeze I cannot believe I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The’ ghost sightings didn’t stop. First it was missing pencils and then it was knocking on the walls and then paintings falling from hooks; conveniently all while Stiles was out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four months he listened to both his daughter and his husband complain about ghostly shenanigans before he lost it. He had a twenty seven page illustration project for work, three hours of sleep, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>orange juice </span>
  </em>
  <span>soaking into his socks and he lost it. “There’s no such thing as ghosts! This apartment isn’t haunted because it was built ten years ago! So how about both of you stop playing games and admit this prank is too much!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two sets of wide eyes stared at him and Stiles took a deep breath. Before he could begin to speak again, to apologize or say something else no one knew, Peter stood. “How about we go get lunch? Your daddy needs some time to destress and focus on his work.” It was a reprimand and a lifeline and Stiles just smiled- thought truly it was more of a grimace. He walked over to his daughter and crouched, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry honey, I’m just a little stressed. Go have fun with Peter and eat some ice cream for me, okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they were both gone he moved to his studio. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first time his pen went missing he got a new one. The second he searched the floor and found it near the books stacked against the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finished two pages of the book when there was a knock on the door. An apology was on his lips as he answered it, he knew he’d been on edge for a while and Peter had been ever so patient with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one was in the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay Stiles. You’re working hard. Take a break.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The final straw came when he was halfway through his final illustration. He was not crazy, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>imagining the hand that came down on his shoulder or the solid line streaked across his screen that </span>
  <em>
    <span>was not his doing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He called Peter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come home, now. Take Zena to Lydia’s and come home. I believe you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Stiles, breathe. Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. No. I don’t know- something touched me and I just want you to come home.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was sitting in the hallway when Peter arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re moving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are moving because I am not going back in there. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>touched </span>
  </em>
  <span>me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter pulled him from the floor and into a hug, letting the tattoo’d man hold on for a minute. “You’re really shaken, huh? Okay, how about we move some more of your supplies over to my apartment and then, when you’re a bit more clear headed we’ll discuss moving.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They do end up moving. It’s two months down the line and it’s only a few blocks across town, closer to both Stiles and Peter’s places of work, but they do move. They move into a place big enough for both their offices and their little family and still with enough room to throw pillows and blankets into the floor for movie nights on the weekends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had nothing to do with the ghost. No matter what Peter liked to say. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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